


For You, I'll Shake the Earth

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Angsty Soren, Badass Soren, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22245961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ike is hurt and Soren feels guilty, but everyone knows it wasn't his fault.
Relationships: Ike & Senerio | Soren
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	For You, I'll Shake the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> For my sweet Kwinny, who wanted a little something where Ike is admiring Soren in the way that Soren is so often admiring him. Sara, I hope you like this. ILYSM!
> 
> ***
> 
> This takes place just after Chapter 23 of Path of Radiance, where General Petrine was defeated at the bridge.

“It was amazing. Most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Terrifying, you mean.”

“Terrifying can also be amazing, you know.”

The fire cracked and danced in the middle of their huddle. Soldiers pushed together, almost shoulder to shoulder to ease the tightness in their bones from the cold. They were finally in Crimea, but the last of the chill from Daein’s winter still reached mercilessly over the border. Their hushed voices carried in the night air despite their whispers.

“That ain’t the point. Point is, I ain’t ever seen a sage work magic like that. I’ve seen their magic, the tornados, the-the lightning… but nothing like that.” The soldier shuddered. “I didn’t know wind could make the ground shake.”

Their group murmured in agreement. It was awe that marred their faces, not horror; the fact that there was power out there beyond what they knew was terrifying, of course. But to have it so close in their own army within their own reach, to witness it themselves… that was amazing. 

Titania’s arms were crossed against the cold as she listened. She was just out of view some ten feet away next to one of their many tents, their conversation having caught her attention as she exited the supply tent. The din of the noise from their entire campsite made picking out particular voices difficult – not that she had learned many names of the Begnion soldiers – but she knew exactly what they were talking about.

She agreed with them.

*

Titania weaved her way through more campfires and tents, acknowledging those who noticed her but never stopping for longer than a moment or two. Before long she had made it to their field hospital, which boasted a larger tent than almost any in the entire camp. Before she could go inside, Rhys emerged, looking worn but otherwise in good spirits.

“Rhys,” she greeted. “How is he?”

“Fine, all things considered,” Rhys answered, running a hand through his ginger bangs and letting out a sigh. He offered her a tired smile. “The burns aren’t that severe. I don’t even think there will be much scarring. A few more passes with the Mend and he should be back on his feet day after tomorrow.”

Titania nodded. “That’s good to hear. What if we let him recover on the road? Load him up rather than waste a day?” she suggested. “Lucia says their faction is posted at Delbray Castle. That’s not too far of a march.”

“I mentioned that, but he said that the troops have earned a day’s rest, even if it isn’t the proudest of circumstances.”

“Hmm. I suppose that’s true. The worst of it all is still yet to come.”

“Indeed. If you’ll excuse me?”

“Of course.”

She watched the bishop take his leave and hovered for a moment, wondering if she should go inside. She wanted to, if only to give herself firsthand reassurance that what Rhys had said was true. But her feet carried her elsewhere first, toward the General’s tent.

*

There was only one person in the tent, which she expected. She entered without announcing herself, making sure the tent flap was closed securely before turning toward the tactician’s table. 

Soren was hunched over the wood with a map, a scroll, and a piece of nearly blank parchment rolled out in front of him. There were bags under his eyes, but his pupils were still bright as his quill scratched fervently against the paper. His hand was shaking almost imperceptibly, just enough for Titania to take note.

“Soren,” Titania started, but she pursed her lips and waited. When he didn’t look up or even acknowledge her, she walked over to the table. She did not sit. “Soren, you can stop. Whatever this is. You can go to him.”

“This needs to be finished,” he replied curtly without looking up. The scratch of the quill was louder than his voice.

“Does it? I don’t see anyone breathing down your neck.”

“They don’t have to breathe down my neck for me to tend to my duties,” he snapped, finally raising his head. His face looked pale, but Titania could see the remnants of red on his cheeks. “Do I look like Boyd?”

“I’d never mistake you for Boyd,” she said lightly, raising her brows and finally taking a seat across from him. The sage huffed and returned to writing. His hand still shook. “You don’t have to avoid him, you know.”

“I don’t need you in here telling me this.”

“You actually need a lot of things that you won’t accept from others.”

Soren put his quill down. He stared at the parchment for a long moment, unseeing, before finally raising his eyes to her. “I don’t deserve to be near him right now. I’m not serving him in any way by hovering around his cot, I need to get these reports finished, it’s one less thing for him to—”

“Soren…”

His eyes were wet. He swallowed, blinking rapidly in shame. He didn’t meet her eye. “I failed him out there.”

“You saved him!” Titania leaned forward, her eyes and her tone pleading. “Are you serious?”

“You were preoccupied. You didn’t see… I was supposed to be beside him. That was the plan,” Soren remarked, slowly fisting his hands atop the table. “We knew her lance was magic. I was supposed to distract her, catch her off guard, and then he was supposed to—”

“He charged her without waiting. That much I did see, Soren. You’re blaming yourself for Ike’s folly.”

“I took too long with my last spell. I wasn’t where I needed to be, when I needed to be. Petrine had spotted him and he had no choice but to stand his ground,” the sage lowered his voice. “This is every bit my fault, Titania.”

Titania leaned back in her chair, contemplative. She watched him until it bordered on awkward, and Soren finally snapped his eyes up to her.

“What?” he demanded sharply.

“They’re talking about you, you know. Around camp,” she said, her expression flippant. “The power you displayed. They say that wind that you called shook the ground. If I’m being honest, it nearly pushed me off my horse, and I was across the battlefield.”

“What are you getting at?”

“What I’m getting at is you saved the General’s life. You saved Ike’s life. Plans are well and good to have, Soren, but the battlefield is never so predictable. You already know that.” She reached over and covered one of his hands with her own and was shocked when he didn’t immediately yank himself away. “You couldn’t have predicted how you would fare out there against that many enemies, but you stayed as close to him as you could. And when he took that hit, you defied all odds and used magic in a way that I’m still not sure I believe. _You_ did that, Soren.”

The sage was quiet. He was stone still, making no move to acknowledge her gentle touch, but taking in her words like he needed to hear them. He needed to take her words and burn them on his skin so the guilt of letting the man he loved almost die would dissolve away and never return. He would never let it happen ever again. 

Finally, Titania pulled her hand away. She stood quietly. 

“They hung blankets in his corner of the tent to give him privacy from the rest of the wounded,” she said, and he looked at her with a gaze that was almost grateful. She gave him a knowing, gentle smile, and left.

Soren sat there a little while longer in the quiet, his quill untouched and his parchment rolling up at the edges. 

*

There were only a handful of wounded soldiers in the medical tent. A line of cots along one side held only a scant few men, with injuries no worse than broken bones and wounded pride. Idly, Soren thought that this would look good in his report on the battle at the bridge. He needed to finish it soon.

In the corner were the strung-up blankets that Titania had mentioned, and with a pounding heart, he approached them. As he came close, Rhys emerged from behind them with a Mend staff in one hand. Soren was satisfied to see he didn’t look too exhausted. They needed him.

“I was wondering when I would see you around here,” Rhys said. “I expected you much sooner.”

“There was… work to be done,” Soren said dismissively, glancing just over the bishop’s shoulder. “Is he--?”

“Awake,” Rhys replied, stepping around Soren without more of a dismissal. “I’ll be back later.”

Soren waited for him to leave, his hands fisted in his robes. He didn’t move.

“Soren?” Ike’s call was stronger than he anticipated. “I know that’s you. I heard you talking.”

With a deep breath, Soren pushed the blankets until he was on the other side of them and closed off from the rest of the tent. From the rest of the world. 

Ike was sitting up in his cot, a tired grin on his face. There was color in his cheeks even though his entire left shoulder was padded in gauze and bandages. They were a crisp white color, which Soren took as a good sign. That meant that he wasn’t bleeding much anymore. His headband was also missing, which made him look younger of all things. Overall, he seemed fine.

Soren felt horrible.

“I was starting to think I wouldn’t see you today at all,” Ike accused, but his tone was lighthearted. “I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Soren asked, incredulous. “Are you mad?”

Ike chuckled. “Quite the opposite. At least I like to think so.”

Soren approached Ike’s cot, close enough to touch him but not so close that he was invading his space. “You’re injured. You were bleeding out on that battlefield and our entire army is parked dead in the water while you recover, and it’s all my—”

Ike’s uninjured arm raised sharply to silence him. “Don’t. Don’t say what you’re about to say.”

“It was my fault,” the sage said stubbornly. Ike’s gentle features turned stern, just on the edge of angry. He fixed Soren with heated blue eyes. 

“It was not your fault,” he said firmly. “No one could have anticipated she would leave her post to charge me, least of all you. Are you angry that you can’t predict the future?”

“I’m angry that you’re hurt and I—”

“I’m fine,” Ike interrupted with a sigh. Soren quieted. “I saw what you did, Soren.” Ike’s voice lowered and he reached to wrap his hand around Soren’s arm. His fingers overlapped. “When I was on the ground, bleeding like a stuck pig—”

“Ike!”

“—I felt the ground shake. I thought a cavalry of horses was about to trample me. But then I felt that wind and I looked over at Petrine and she was just… gone,” Ike stared at Soren as he spoke, feeling more and more pleased at the sage’s increasingly flushed face. “I saw you there, commanding that wind. You were amazing.”

Soren swallowed. Why was everyone fixating on that? It was just a spell. It was one he had discovered when reading through old tomes back in Melior, one he had never anticipated ever actually attempting. But when Ike went down, his vision had whited. Nothing had mattered more in that moment than removing that danger. Nothing would ever matter more. He just did it without thinking. 

“You saved me, Soren,” Ike continued softly. “I wouldn’t be here without you. You’re the reason we can still march on Melior and take Ashnard down.”

“D-don’t be ridiculous, Ike. You command this army, I just… I just…”

“You’re by my side,” Ike corrected gently. “You’re with me at every step, more than anyone. I couldn’t do this without you, Soren,” he squeezed the sage’s arm, urging him to look his way. “Hey. Look at me. C’mere.”

Without protest, Soren sat on the edge of the cot. Ike sat forward without so much as a wince and wrapped his good arm around him, squeezing tightly. After a second’s hesitation, Soren raised both arms and patted him gently on the back.

“Ike,” he said quietly.

The General hummed. “Yeah?”

Soren pulled away and urged him to lay back and rest. “You know I could… never let anything happen to you. If I could help it,” the sage looked down, his face reddening in shame or embarrassment. “I wouldn’t be the same if you… without you, I’d…”

A large hand moved into his vision, wrapping gently over one cheek and raising his head so he was looking directly at the swordsman. 

“Me too,” Ike said gently. His thumb brushed over Soren’s cheek, and the sage closed his eyes. “Me too, Soren. Very much.”

Soren slept in the medical tent that night. Rhys didn’t question it. The next day, when Titania presented the sage with her version of the finished report, Soren’s thanks were genuine.


End file.
